Drifting Pollen

Over

Jim Dancer kicked open the door and clapped his hands.

"All right, everyone out! AMRO orders, nobody comes back 'till I say so!"

The shout resounded through the bridge, and sent technicians scurrying as the towering Asylum strode forwards, heading directly for the man who seemed to be in charge. "You the captain? I want neither the crew nor any of those Bloodline prats coming near us, got it?"

The man's eyes widened in fright, but he stood firm. "Is something wrong? If there's a threat, I should alert the passengers immediately-"

Dancer cut him off with a wave. "Nothing's the matter, just a security inspection. AMRO wants to make sure we don't get any morons trying something. I won't take long, and you can have your ship back afterwards..." His eyes narrowed. "So long as nobody gets in my way."

With a quick nod, the captain scampered off to join his fellows. Perhaps there were doubts left in his mind, but you didn't argue with an Asylum- particularly not one who looked like he could crush your skull with one hand.

Withing seconds, the room was clear, and Dancer breathed out, glancing around as if searching for something. A moment later, Maya Song appeared out of thin air in front of him. That was more polite than usual.

Dancer scowled. Try as he might, he still had trouble tracking her when she went invisible. Can't scare the fuckers too much. They were pissing their pants already, and the Bloodlines'd notice if they panicked.

Nice to know you have some sense of responsibility. Song turned around, her eyes sweeping over the bridge. I'm not picking up anything yet.

Has to be one in here, they wouldn't just miss the bridge. You blow a hole in the side of the ship, the damn thing can take minutes or hours to sink, and everyone on board gets a lifeboat or a helicopter to bail them out. But if you take out the controls- the ship can't steer away from hazards. Can't radio for help. Can't stop all the passengers from panicking. Add an EMP to that and you've got a fucking deathtrap.

And how is it that you're suddenly an expert on maritime explosive placement?

You don't do mercenary work for as long as I did without blowing up a few boats. Now come on, do your bloody Sniffer thing and get this over with.

With a barely audible hmph, Maya looked around, taking in her surroundings. There weren't many places one could hide an explosive, up here. Open space, well-lit, and all the monitors and switches were mostly built into the room, difficult to take apart and stick something inside. A few laptops and coffee mugs had been left behind, but nothing evident as a hiding place. Nothing could be ruled out, of course, but it was most likely to be somewhere out of sight and relatively easy to access...

The chairs. Check the chairs for stitches.

Dancer gave her a silent nod, quickly moving towards the nearest one. They were good seats, well-cushioned for those who would be stuck in them for hours. Easy enough for someone to slit open some of that cushioning and slide a device in, behind too much padding to easily feel.

He leaned in, looking carefully over the soft black surface which still bore the imprint of some sailor's ass. His hand swept over it, feeling for any unevenness. Then the back, then the headrest. Then onto the next chair, where after a few seconds he stopped, and gestured at Song. She threw him a knife, which he caught with one hand, and carefully cut into the chair, slicing through the almost invisible line of stitches where the faux-leather had been cut open and repaired. With the incision made, he slowly stuck his fingers in, and pulled apart the edges, peering inside.

It's small. Not an explosive device. This better not be a fucking neurotoxin...

There was a sudden click in front of him, followed by a slow hiss. The two Asylums glanced at each other. No need for any mental communication here, they both knew what this meant.

Song pulled up the collar of her coat, covering her mouth and nose while squeezing her eyes shut, while Dancer muttered to himself, and incantation to protect his insides against whatever the bomb had just released. But this was no mere airborne toxin.

Well, that was unexpected. Any idea what this-

"Song?"

We shouldn't talk, you never know who might be-

"Song, I want you to know... I've always hated you less than I should."

That hit her hard. Too hard. Her eyes grew watery as she stammered, surprised. "Dancer, I... is that really how you feel about me?"

"Damn it, I'm fucking sorry, but I just can't help it! From the moment I set my goddamn eyes on you, I just couldn't hate you like I despise all the other dumb fucks who call themselves alchemists. They're all bastards, and you're a bitch too- but less of a bitch than you could be." He breathed in, steadying himself. "And if this all ends here... or wherever this all ends... I just want you to know that those stupid missions we did, all the bullshit we dealt with together, even working with the shitheads at AMRO... it was almost worth it, just to work with you. Almost."

"Oh, Jim!" Song mumbled through her tears, "I... I hate you too. After all we've been through, you still can't pay me a... fucking compliment!"

"I'm not sorry."

Sobbing, they fell into each other's arms, and tried to strangle each other.

The Invincible Girl versus an Old Snake

I didn't design her with the consideration that she could possibly die, but it would be interesting to see what it would take. Maybe slipping on a banana peel does her in. XD

@ImportantNobody

Your choice. Vol is smart enough to give up if absolutely nothing works, but there's a good few methods he has yet to try... so we'll see how it pans out.

The Invincible Girl versus an Old Snake

This time, Vol Lok Ra was ready for failure. He had seen, even felt Vincy's toughness firsthand during his last two attacks, and had doubted it would be so easy to pierce what was looking more and more like an unbreakable defense. Still, he had to try, and now he understood his opponent just a little more. Both blunt and piercing trauma had no effect on her, and that meant he could probably rule out cutting as well. Hm. Something different, then.

It was starting to become quite interesting, figuring out whether the girl had weaknesses, but she wasn't just letting him attack her all day. Her legs swung up, kicking out at his chin from below.

A human, seeing such an attack coming, might try to move their chin out of the way, and indeed Vol would have done so in human form. Right now, however, he was a gigantic lizard, and his reaction was the opposite. He moved his chin down, tucking it and cocking his head to bite at her legs with his massive jaws as they came in.

One of Vincy's feet would land a glancing hit on Vol's jawbone, provoking a muffled grunt from him- her strength was pretty impressive as well. Her other foot, however, would be caught between Vol's sharp teeth, which clamped down hard, holding her leg in place. The shapeshifter knew by now that even his mighty bite couldn't do much damage to her leg- but how well did she stretch?

He moved his head to the right, and his arm to the left, pulling Vincy's leg one way and her head the other. One eye gazed balefully at her body as he did so, watching to see what would happen- would she elongate? Break in two? He knew he couldn't just flee this battle now, his curiosity was overtaking him. One way or another, Vol would find a way to make her die.

The Invincible Girl versus an Old Snake

Again, Vol landed a direct hit, and again, the girl was merely winded by his assault. Now this was honestly perplexing. He could understand a well-trained and tough mammal being lucky enough to withstand a hit from him, but this had been twice in a row, now, and the second time he'd actually been serious. This one was on a different level than the others, even the ones who had used powers beyond their ordinary capabilities. Either she was using a very old and very powerful magic, or she was, like him, a different being than her outward appearance would indicate.

His foot came down again with enough force to crack the asphalt, but his challenger managed to hold on nevertheless, and was still within his reach. Vol knew he could hit harder than this if he used his magic as well as his strength, but if she took this little damage from a powerful hit, then adding more brute force probably wasn't going to do much. Time to start using his head, then. She could take blunt blows from him without any serious injury, which meant a very high degree of shock absorption. But how could she handle cutting edges?

Hissing like a snake, the lizard king lashed out at Vincy with his left arm. Instead of a fist, however, he struck with an open hand. He'd grab at her head, curling his fingers around it with crushing force, and try to dig his razor-sharp black claws into her skull.

Over

The first thought that occurred to Maya as her weight was decupled and the ship beneath her began to creak and groan was that a rogue alchemist was attacking. The Bloodlines had seemed calm enough (by their standards) a moment ago, and the Asylums were supposed to be protecting the boat. But it only took her a moment to trace the alchemic drive, and it was coming from them. From the little girl, of all people. That, and it was much too strong to be any old asylum.

It appeared that her partner had managed to piss off a Chrono. Wouldn't be the first time... but as she turned to him, she found him looking back at her, grinning. Not only that, but he was standing entirely straight against the gravity. She'd been almost knocked over by the initial push, and had to lean on the railing for support, but Dancer hadn't so much as flinched. There was no way he could have resisted it so well unless he was ready for it.

The truth dawned on her. "You," she said, her voice utterly deadpan, "you did this on purpose."

Dancer rolled his eyes. "Right, it's my fault that a fucking Chrono can't handle having her feathers ruffled. That girl needs a smacked bottom."

Song was giving him a death stare, now. "Doesn't matter. If the Bloodlines get killed, that's a mission failure. We had a streak going, and you may well have ruined it."

"Pffft. As if AMRO would stick that little bitch on something as sensitive as this without a way of controlling her. She'll have a handler, or a fucking microchip or some shit." As if to confirm his words, a strangely dressed man moved towards the Chrono, apparently speaking. "See? Kids are so damn easy to manipulate. Watch, I'll piss her off again!" He raised his hands to his mouth once more.

Then stopped, as he caught a gleam of metal out the corner of his eye, and realized that Maya had pulled a knife on him. A very sharp knife, pointed at a very sensitive location. His hands slowly dropped to his sides. "Coward."

Maya cocked her head to one side. "Shall I put you on a leash again? Or can we do this the easy way?"

"Fuck tha-" There was a popping noise, and one of Dancer's knees buckled. He caught himself before he fell, one arm slamming against the railing as he struggled to hold himself up. His knee joint had been dislocated by the weight, and the pain showed on his face. "...fine." He scowled at her. "But you owe me for this. I keep quiet for this thing, and you get AMRO to give me a damn rocket launcher."

She sighed inwardly. Then nodded. "You do your best, I'll do mine."

The gravity lifted, and the deck swayed as the cruise ship bobbed back up to its original position. Song stood at attention as the other Asylums boarded, while Dancer took the opportunity to sit down and wrench his knee back into position. It'd need proper medical attention later, but for now his alchemy would keep him upright- and more importantly, while he was concentrating on it he was less likely to mouth off.

Everyone appeared to be taking the whole gravity-crush incident rather well, and the Chrono's partner put on a good show of reigning them in. Song re-established her connection with her sigils, letting images from around the ship flood into her eyes once more. They'd come close to chaos, but it appeared that the majority here were sane enough to keep things from devolving into a war for now.

Dancer tapped her on the shoulder. She blinked, and looked in front of her to find that the Chrono's partner was standing before them. A warning rang out, echoing in her mind as if it had been planted there. She clapped her hands together. "Yes Sir!" Then gave a swift, sharp bow of her head. "Of course, Sir!"

The motions were exaggerated, meant to draw the man's eyes away from her partner while performing a subtle Motem cast, creating illusions over Dancer's hands and mouth. This was to conceal the fact that he was flipping Angel the bird, while mouthing the words 'fuck you.' Fortunately, Song could cast very quickly, and the gestures were masked entirely. To anyone looking, it would appear that Jim was standing with his hands at his sides and his mouth tight shut.

She looked over at him, taking pains to conceal all mental and physical signs of her annoyance. "Come on. We should rendezvous with the other Asylums, get some idea of who we're working with."

Dancer nodded, and fell in line with her as she headed roughly towards the other Asylums, taking care to steer well away from the Chrono. A mental message crossed the link between them, one of the rare times Jim didn't open his mouth. You should stick a mirage on that guy. Make his nose look like a-

NO!

AGE OF DAWN

People were taking a while to post so I posted. Hope it is okay.

AGE OF DAWN

The armored man was surrounded. Two with swords at his front, covering his left and right sides, a third circling behind him with an axe. He turned, wary, trying and failing to keep all three of his leather-clad opponents in his line of sight.

Two of them struck at once, a blade and an axe scything through the air at him as their wielders closed, seeking to catching him from both sides at once. The man made no effort to block. He was unarmed, but the thick plate he wore absorbed the blows, barely even denting as the two weapons slammed into it. Grinning beneath his visor, he charged forwards, slamming a gauntlet into an attacker's face and prompting a collective gasp from the watching crowd.

Some distance away, from atop a raised chair with an excellent view of the ongoing battle, Rosa Mariane watched their reaction, and was pleased. Putting on an impressive show paid big dividends. Even if the sight of a man shrugging off sword blows didn't impress her buyer, it'd certainly impress the other men (and occasional woman) of means who saw it. That would mean more potential dealings, pressure on her original target from his peers, and most importantly, tales and rumors of the invincible armor spreading throughout the land.

The plate was good, of course- she had the resources now to hire some truly skillful blacksmiths, and had ensured that this armor in particular was of the highest quality. She'd also made sure that the weapons currently being used against it were not so well-made, and were of the kind that didn't fare well against armor in general. But of course, the crowd didn't know that, and when they spoke of this moment in the following days and weeks, they'd exaggerate as far as they could.

Secondary effects aside, however, she appeared to have won over the man she'd hoped to. A young lord of a small domain of Thule, whose father had died on the battlefield some months earlier. According to rumor, he was itching for vengeance, and showing off shiny armor and weapons for him practically guaranteed her a deal. It wasn't the main reason she'd come here, but it was a nice bonus.

Noticing that her gaze had drifted his way, the young ruler shifted in his seat, and nodded to her. "I cannot deny it, the craftsmanship is excellent."

She flashed him a smile for that. Not the wicked kind, but a genuine one, or a least a very good imitation of it. "Good eye, my lord. Plate of this caliber is hard to come by- and men to match it, harder still. The armor is a powerful weapon, yes, but its true value lies in the warriors it may serve to protect."

A ploy of sorts. If this man knew his generals, his captains, the men who'd proven their worth in battle, he would be thinking of them. Or perhaps thinking of his father. The lives of heroes were far harder to dismiss than a shiny suit of metal. It made her offer more enticing, while at the same time painting her in a more positive light.

She could see his eyebrows rise, as he considered the implications, and noticed that the merchant of coins and death was extolling the value of human life. "I cannot deny that." She had his full attention now, as he turned further towards her, raising one hand to his chin and making eye contact. "And your arms? They are of similar quality?"

"Certainly, my lord." She gestured gently at the crowd, who were cheering now as the armored fighter rounded on his last standing opponent. "Ask anyone who has heard my name, and they'll tell you of the kingdoms carved out with my blades." She was exaggerating about the quality, perhaps, it would be far too expensive to produce masterworks en masse, even with the prices she could get for them. However, she was betting that what she had was better than anything they could easily get their hands on around here, and anyone clever enough to tell the difference between a good sword and a magnificent one would also be clever enough to know how much good ones were needed. "When you succeed in your conquests, I can return here, and offer further weapons. It is in my interests. Besides..." Her tone and expression grew a little more tender. "I do have a certain affection for this place and its people. They're hardy, and kind at heart. A strong army and a good ruler would do them well."

That last part was utter bullshit, but it was a lie she could sell. For one thing, her earlier words concerning the armor would have induced doubt as to her supposed ruthlessness. For another, she was a woman, and men liked to believe that women were kind and filled with emotion. Especially pretty ones. Another thing she'd learned to be good at feigning.

Sure enough, he was smiling at her. "You are right indeed, this kingdom shall prosper with every battle won. Perhaps our contract could ensure that this occurs..." He was thinking again, remembering the offer she'd send to him, all the numbers and goods and prices, laid out on paper. "I must say, however, the amount you ask for may be... taxing, for my domain, and its people."

Exactly as intended. She'd put together a rough estimate of how much he'd be able to afford, and had gone slightly over that. "I understand, my lord." She let slip the tiniest bit of concern in her voice. "There is more to governing than winning wars, even in these hard times. Perhaps I should have given more consideration to this." Submission, letting him feel like he was in control. "However... perhaps we can strike an alternative bargain, my lord?"

He gestured. "Do tell."

"I can cut the amount in coin by one-fourth, my lord, if you would grant me a small gift. Do you know of a man named Rantham Darrow?"

Her buyer nodded, frowning. "The alchemist. I know of him. You wish to recruit him, then?"

Rosa smiled. "Indeed, my lord."

"The man is not without value. His kind produced great devices, war-winning creations of fire and thunder. He has knowledge, valuable knowledge, and it is my hope that he could craft such weapons in my service, given time."

"If I may ask, has he, my lord? No doubt you have given him resources, but what has he produced in return? Perhaps a few fiery tricks, perhaps even useful ones, but nothing like you hear about in the tales." Based on his expression, and the slight shifting of his fingers, she wasn't far off the mark. "There is only so much one man can do. Give him to me, however, and I'll pair him with his fellows, give him all the books and powders he needs. He will produce alchemy of pure lightning, the kind of weapons no barbaric foe can possibly stand against- weapons that I can bring to you and your allies."

It was a dangerous choice, for him. If he gave her the alchemist, there was a chance the weapons the man produced in Rosa's service would one day be used against his armies, by others who had dealt with her. On the other hand, if he didn't, it was likely that her alchemists would make her something devastating regardless- and she'd sell it to his enemies, rather than the man who had spurned her offer.

"Very well," he said after a while, "I will consider this. You are certain the alchemist will go with you?"

Rosa smiled. "I'll make sure of it, my lord."

The Invincible Girl versus an Old Snake

The moment his strike made contact, Vol could tell something was wrong. Why did he not hear the cracking of bone as his strength battered ribs, why did the mammal girl not collapse from the pain? His eyes narrowed. He should have been able to guess from her clothes: the ones who tried to fight him clad in bright colors had proven trickier than their fellow mammals, some possessing minor magic. Either that white suit of hers was a form of disguised armor, or she was simply tougher than the others. The thought pleased him. His brief conflicts here had barely been enough of a challenge to get his blood running, but perhaps this one could actually take a few strikes before falling.

The shapeshifter's reptilian form did in fact have genitalia, though they were different from those of humans. These were covered by a tight-fitting pair of shorts made out of the lizard's own shed scales, which made it appear as if it wore nothing at all and was simply sexless. A blow there would certainly have hurt, if delivered with enough force, but Vol had not been caught completely off his guard.

The girl's resilience had been unexpected, but the moment she took to regain her balance gave him time enough to reconcile this. Vol was not one to stand around sputtering at a simple surprise, not after having lived so long and seen so many strange things before. Though he did not immediately follow up his initial blow, when the counterattack came, he was ready for it.

He didn't know exactly where she was aiming at, but he could hazard a guess. The sheer height of his current form made it difficult for smaller creatures to target his head and shoulders, and because of this they tended to aim for his knees, stomach, or groin. Those were actually somewhat difficult to defend with his powerful arms, but his legs, on the other hand...

An advantage in height also translated into an advantage in reach, and Vol made full use of this as his prey came running towards him. He leaned back slightly as his right leg came whipping forwards, his knee moving up and to the left before his lower leg snapped outwards, kicking hard at the girl's side. Unlike his previous swiping blow, Vol put some effort into this one, knowing that more force would be necessary to hurt the girl. If all went well, he'd knock her aside with his kick before she got a chance to land whatever attack she was making, and break her with the impact of his full strength.

Over

Out on the deck of the cruise ship, far away from the squabbling Bloodlines, two figures leaned against the railing facing the docks.

The taller one, a towering older man wearing a stiff suit as grey as his close-cropped hair, was looking decidedly bored as he fidgeted with his hands, cracking his knuckles one by one. "Are they fucking here yet?"

The girl next to him had her arms folded atop the railing, and remained completely still as she stared off into the distance, as if lost in a daydream. "No."

"Little shits." The man scowled. "Is this what we are now? Fucking babysitters?"

"They're not all that young. Which you'd know if we'd actually gone to the briefing-"

"Oh yes, I'd have loved to go and eat ice cream with the bloody AMRO Girl Scouts! Such a fucking shame we were too busy..." He paused, squinting. "What the fuck were we supposed to be doing again?"

"Keeping an eye on the ship." The girl's tone was distracted, as if she were only barely paying attention to the conversation.

Her companion barreled on regardless, nodding to himself. "That's right. Standing guard, making sure the Magic Mafia behave themselves." He paused, glancing towards her. "You are keeping an eye on them, right?"

"Mmm."

"Good. That lot needs even more babysitting than the soft-serve brigade. Fucking Bloodlines..."

Maya Song tuned her partner out as he rambled on about the childishness and stupidity of the various families. She could tell him that they were probably listening in, but she doubted that Jim Dancer would particularly care. He was a pot calling kettles black, in this case, but she was happy to let him rant on as he pleased, so long as he didn't disturb her real focus.

A pair of carefully-hidden sigils were pulling in and capturing light from all around where the Bloodlines were gathered, feeding a stream of images to the brown-haired Asylum leaning against the railing. More versatile and less noticeable than security cameras, and also less likely to be hacked. It was a tricky piece of alchemy, however, and Dancer was feeling the drain. His constant stream of complaints and insults were his way of holding onto his sanity, and served as a barometer for her to tell just how worked up he was getting.

For now, he was okay, relatively speaking. The Bloodlines were being antagonistic as usual, but they weren't doing anything quite nasty enough to warrant intervention just yet. All she had to do was keep everything copacetic until-

"They're here."

Letting her surveillance drop out of focus for a moment, Maya looked down towards the docks, easily picking out the rapidly approaching band of Asylums. They certainly weren't hard to distinguish, even from a distance. She glanced towards Jim. "Be polite, okay?"

"Right." Even as he said this, Dancer was looking at the other AMRO operatives with a look of utter disdain on his face. Before Song could do anything to stop him, he'd cupped his hands around his mouth, and roared down at them as they neared the cruiser.

"GET ON FUCKING BOARD!"

AGE OF DAWN

Rosa Mariane

Name: Rosa Mariane

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Appearance:



Tall and willowy build, with dark brown hair cut short or tied up, depending on the season. Brown eyes and light skin, the latter of which is usually kept very clean, for presentation's sake. She pays a lot of attention to her appearance, and takes pains to look as pristine as possible. Holds herself with practiced poise, and moves very carefully, with an emphasis on appearing cultured and elegant. Also has a tattoo that stretches down from her nape, across her back, and around to her belly, a black pattern made up of curling lines and tiny words in several different languages.

Rosa's clothes vary between extremely ostentatious and expensive outfits with lots of trimmings and jewelry (for official business) and loose, muted brown cloth and burlap garb (for more secretive dealings).

Personality:
Rosa's a snake. Ruthless and analytical, as patient as she is cunning, and utterly distrusting of those around her. She's also a very good actor, and will often try to appear more gentle and innocent than she actually is. Though hardly insecure, she is quite self-conscious, and carefully considers both her actions and the reactions of others. She will often appear friendly, and enjoys making acquaintances, but she always sees these kinds of relationships as tools rather than emotional connections. She can make real friends, but demands absolute loyalty in return.

She's something of a hedonist, and enjoys rich foods, excessive ornamentation, luxurious accommodations, attractive men, and the very best wines the world can provide. The latter is taken in moderation, however, and she stays away from more exotic drugs, out of fear that they may affect her mind. She is also mildly paranoid, and will sometimes have trouble balancing her desires and her need for security. There are many pleasures that Rosa loves, but power over others is foremost among them, and she will work to crush or undermine all those she cannot control.

History:
An Atlantean by descent, Rosa was born on a boat and raised on the rivers and seas, the daughter of a pair of formerly wealthy merchants whose powerful Guild had collapsed during the turmoil of the Age of Dusk. With their money running out and nowhere safe to go, her parents had been forced to throw in their lot with a roving band of pirates, using their ability to appraise and negotiate to sell off stolen goods for half-decent prices, which was a valuable talent in such dark times. Neither of them wanted to see Rosa caught up in their dirty business, but the pirates forced their hand, keeping their daughter close as collateral.

Thus, Rosa was exposed to the seedy side of the world at a young age. Though she never took part in any raids or boardings, she traveled the Atlantean Sea with a vile and dangerous crew, stopping at hidden ports and black markets all over the coastline. Resolving to make the best of a dire situation, her parents taught her something of their trade: how to read and manipulate people, the basics of economics, and the details they had learned as merchants of the world's various cultures, including those further inland, such as Iiram, which Rosa had never seen. Sometimes, when they were feeling nostalgic, they would wax poetic about their former wealth, or the might of the Merchants' Guild, and their daughter drank it all in.

However, working alongside pirates was a dangerous business, and eventually Rosa's parents and their employers ran afoul of a vicious and vengeful captain, who was quick to track them down and seek their heads. Knowing that they had little hope of surviving much longer, the two of them called in an old favor and got their daughter a ride on a small smuggling vessel, which took Rosa down to a seedy little port in Darfar, where an old friend was waiting to take her in. There, she was supposed to live quietly, safely, until she was old enough to take care of herself.

The girl, however, absolutely loathed the idea of a life filled with poverty and boredom. Her caretaker was an honest man, but he soon found himself unable to control the young Rosa, who took to the streets, befriending the dirty beggars and orphans who scurried like rats through the dark alleyways. Using her experience and her charm, she organized them, pooling and distributing their profits efficiently and grouping together the skilled thieves to steal valuable goods in planned heists they could never have pulled off before. By the time they'd attracted the attention of the local watch, Rosa's little gang was already wealthy enough to bribe them off, and continue their plundering unimpeded. Soon, as both she and her allies grew older and cleverer and gathered more resources, she began to hire muscle, and took over the more dangerous trades, recruiting drug dealers and con artists, bouncers and bartenders, pirates and bounty hunters, and all the other kinds of dangerous scum who frequented her dirty little port. Her guardian thought her dead by this point, but Rosa was thriving, masterminding a growing criminal empire that was already spreading its reach to the seas.

There was only so far she could have gone through quiet manipulation and organization alone, but Rosa was an adult by now (albeit a young one) and was ready to step out into the wider world. Once she'd acquired enough wealth to buy herself a ship, she was off to sea, armed with her wits and a crew of loyal scumbags, ready to begin her rise to power.

She knew what the world wanted in this age: weapons. After contacting informants on the coastline to find out where the wars were, she bought up arms and armor from peaceful locations before selling them at exorbitant prices to kingdoms at war, who needed them far more than their gold and jewels. As she grew richer and found more allies and customers, Rosa recruited blacksmiths of her own, and began seeking out alchemists, hoping to use their dying art to discover the secrets of gunpowder, and monopolize this for her own gains. As the volatile and brutal Age of Dawn began, supply and demand grew ever larger, Rosa's network spread across the continent, and she became fabulously rich.

Since then, Rosa has been surrounding herself with luxuries, as if to spite her former circumstances. However, these dalliances are mere distractions from her expanding influence and ambitious plans. Using her money and contacts, she has smuggled valuable and much-needed arms and supplies all across the continent, gathered small armies of mercenaries to change the tide of key battles, orchestrated the assassination of major political figures, sent thieves and pirates after her competition, and even used her power to help force pacts and agreements where necessary. Every move is calculated, meant to either yield massive profits or shape the political landscape in her favor. She has also began studying alchemy herself, in the hopes of being able to rebuild and surpass the deadly power formerly posessed by the alchemists of Thule. Now, she travels across the continent, never remaining in one place for long. Wherever she goes, the rich and the poor, the mighty and the weak all whisper of the woman whose every decision might shape the fate of kingdoms.

Journey:
If it wasn't already clear... Rosa wants power and money. She already has a crap ton of the latter, and is now beginning to shift her focus towards the former. The instability caused by the events of the Age of Dusk have given her plenty of opportunities to exploit, but right now she's seeking consolidation, creating alliances and holding them steady to ensure that her hard work is not wasted by some unpredictable coup or invasion. She still thrives on warfare, but already has plans to adapt when a more peaceful age inevitably comes about. While world in turmoil can cast away a spider like her, if she can make herself an integral piece of one set in stone, she has won. Her end-goal is a stable and thriving human civilization, with her pulling the strings from the shadows, not openly ruling any land but being powerful enough to get whatever she wants, one way or another.

Ideals:
Greed, pleasure, cunning and manipulation. Rosa values the intelligent for being competent servants and a decent challenge, and equally values the stupid for being easy to control. From her point of view, humans are little better than animals, and it is up to the most canny to rise to the top and dominate those below them. Concepts such as honor and kindness mean little to her, for her the only true happiness in life comes from pleasure, power, and the accumulation of both.

Holdings:
Officially, Rosa is extremely wealthy, possessing enough material wealth to rival a small kingdom and a fleet of over a dozen vessels, some of which she uses to ferry weapons and goods where she needs them and others of which are simply pirates in her employ. Unofficially, she also has the ear and loyalty of hundred of contacts, including informants, assassins, politicians, mercenaries, gang leaders, pirates, and even the rulers of some towns and cities. These contacts in turn command many others, resulting in Rosa having access to a network thousands strong, though this is spread out all over the continent. It is likely she will know anywhere from one to three major figures in any coastal or riverside population center, as well as a few in key areas outside her usual range. Due to her means of operation, Rosa's influence wanes the further one gets from water and civilized areas, to the point where she has few contacts among groups such as nomadic tribes, although she is working on changing this.

She also has several alchemists working for her, and possesses a large number of rare and valuable alchemical texts, which she is using to try and learn its secrets herself, focusing primarily on its more devastating applications.